When Saint Goes Marching In (28 page)

“Ted are you crazy? This ain’t no reunion! You were intent on trying to kill that woman. What makes you think you can just saunter up to her and act like you are a Good Samaritan now?”

“Because Saint told me he didn’t tell her what happened when I asked him,” Ted explained. “She doesn’t know me, has never seen me and has no idea what I was up to, thank God.” Ted shook his head in disbelief of his past misdeeds. “Anyway, let me stop on by there and see what I can find out. I’ll call you back later.”

Ted hung up the phone and jumped in his black Ford F-150 truck.

“Xenia Aknaten, I owe your husband something. What that is, I’m not sure, but I can’t prolong this any longer,” Ted said to himself as he got on the highway.

* * *

Saint felt faint. He gripped his cup of tea and almost dropped it as his fingers slicked around the shiny, cardboard container. The morning Colorado sun and cool breeze woke up his senses once more, as he drifted in and out of total awareness.

How long do I have to wait for this greedy mothafucka to eat this damn donut? How can he eat at a time like this? His trunk is full of rope and duct tape.

 Saint rubbed his temple. “He’s getting ready to do it, that’s why I’m feeling so ill. Get your ass out here and let’s get this over with!” he said under his breath.

He pressed his back onto the wall to the side of the store, and the rough brick rubbed against his dark blue Reebok jacket. His senses went on full alert when a strong smell hit his nostrils. He quickly stepped away from the wall.

What is that?

It was strangely familiar yet different. Just then, a jogger crossed the street towards him. The Native American man stopped and played with his iPod before jogging in place again while he waited for the light. Saint inhaled deeply, feeling as if the world had stopped on its axis and all he could see, feel, hear and touch was this Navaho Indian man who ran his fingers through his short, feathered jet-black hair.

The man rubbed his bare leg. His shorts rode up a little as he continued to bounce in place. Suddenly, the man stopped. He turned and looked Saint in the eye. It was as if lasers beamed between the two of them, a code, and a language that only they could understand.

How are you?
The man asked telepathically.

You can actually hear my thoughts?
Saint questioned, his head becoming dizzy once again.

Yes.
The man reached down, pushed his sock down as far as it would go into his shoe, and exposed a rather sizeable diamond shaped birthmark on his left ankle. Once he was sure Saint had seen it, he quickly pulled his sock back up.

You’ve never seen another like you, have you?
The man asked curiously.

No,
Saint answered, completely captivated by this blessed occurrence.

Well, here I am.
The man laughed.

Yes, here you are. This is amazing.

Not really. There are quite a few of us. We all have varying degrees of understanding and power. You most likely have seen more of your kind around but you didn’t have the ability to discern it at the time.

I’d imagine that’s true. How did you notice me? The same way I noticed you?
Saint continued to stare at him.

 “You’re pretty strong. Your light is actually blinding me and your energy is filling up the entire block. You are a rare type but there are a lot of us all around the world. By the way, my name is Lawrence.”

 “I’m Saint,” Saint said verbally as he took another sip of his tea.

Lawrence
walked up to him, his shirt soaked with sweat, and extended his hand.

Saint ignored his germ-o-phobic natural reflex, smiled and shook it.

“Now that I’m actually using my mouth, I’d love to ask you a bunch of questions but I’m short on time,” Saint said, full of childlike curiosity.

“Hey, take this then.” Lawrence reached into his fanny pack and pulled out a business card. He handed it to Saint. “Call me when you have time, if you ever have any questions. We’re not boogie men. In my culture, we are taught that this is as normal as having dimples or freckles. You, my friend, I’d love to take back home and show off though. Wow, you have strong energy! You can do stuff I can’t. You feel fresh too, like your knowledge of this is unchartered.”

Saint smiled. “In some ways it is. I’m still learning.”

 “Did you just find out, like in the last four or five years?” Lawrence asked. “The powerful ones like you don’t usually fully develop until later, in your thirties or forties.”

“I knew since I was a kid but it didn’t evolve really until fairly recently so yeah, it was pretty freaky.” Saint laughed as he read Lawrence’s business card. “You’re a historian?” he asked, impressed.

“Yes indeed. And from what I could pick up from you, you are either a private investigator or porn director. It’s really strange; they both came into your energy.” Lawrence laughed.

“That’s hilarious!” Saint cackled. “I’m neither, but I could see how you’d think that. I can explain that later but I better be getting on my way. My name is Saint Aknaten by the way and I will definitely be in touch.” Saint said.

Lawrence
looked at the small donut shop across the street. “I see you looking at him. I can smell him, too,” he said aloud. “He stinks. He’s full of hatred, jealousy and severe mental illness. It makes me want to vomit.” Lawrence grimaced. “You’d think I’d be used to this by now. You’re here for him, aren’t you?”

“You’re good!” Saint smiled. “Yup, and he’s on his way to his car. I gotta go.”

“Be careful with him,” Lawrence warned. “I don’t know what you’re doing, you’re blocking the signal for that information so that I can’t read it,” he said gravely. “But this guy is dangerous and you know our code. He has to try to kill you first before you can do him in or there will be dire consequences. I hope he does try to take you out, and lose of course. He shouldn’t even be drawing breath. He is a piranha, a deadly virus. I personally wouldn’t want to go anywhere near him but him being wiped off the planet would make it all worth it.”

Saint was shocked by Lawrence’s candor but he liked the man. “Thanks for the heads up. Hey, before I go, what do you call yourself? I mean, we’re not really psychics, well, kinda but it’s deeper than that. We aren’t vampires or anything crazy like that. I have no idea what to call myself.”

Lawrence
chuckled. “You’re a just human being, man. There’s a title, but there
really
is no need for one. You’re just a human being that can do some really cool shit!”

Saint couldn’t hold the laughter. “It was a blessing to meet you, Lawrence. I will definitely be giving you a call.”

Saint slipped the card in his jacket and watched Lawrence jog away. The familiar scent of their kinship slowly faded until it stopped when he was a half a block away. Stanley got out of the shop. He looked around nervously then got into his car. Saint quickly ran to his vehicle and followed suit as Stanley maneuvered around the streets, his tires screeching around tight corners. Saint stayed close until they arrived at a suburban condominium surrounded by neatly trimmed bushes.

Stanley
waited in his car. Approximately fifteen minutes later, Sergeant Kane emerged. He looked at his watch, got into his blue Honda Accord and quickly drove off.

Stanley
popped his trunk. He raced to the back of his car and pulled out the rope and duct tape.

Saint sat up, on full alert, afraid to even blink. Suddenly, he heard Stanley growl. Mrs. Kane emerged from the house, a briefcase in tow as she made her way to her white Honda Pilot.

“Shit!” Saint watched Stanley mouth.

“Ahhh, your plan is fucked up,” Saint said aloud inside the car as he watched the entire scene play out. “You thought she wouldn’t be going to work today for some reason. That’s what you deserve for believing everything on Twitter and Facebook.”

Stanley
hopped back in his car and drove off, his tires screeching down the street, leaving black marks all the way. And these were the frustrated paw prints of a deranged serial killer…

* * *

“Great show, girl!” Xenia’s friend and co-personality Traci complimented. “I’m going to my office now. I’ll see you later, OK?” She reached down and hugged Xenia before she disappeared out of the control booth, leaving Xenia to her own thoughts.

Xenia
sighed and put her head down on the desk surface but popped back up as she heard her phone vibrating.

“Hey Stacey, I haven’t spoken to you in a minute!” Xenia said happily as she heard another friend’s voice on the other end. She waved to another employee who was walking out of the studio.

“Hey lady! It’s been a minute. I never want to go to Afghanistan again. I just got back to San Fran two days ago. It was a journalistic learning experience, that’s for sure. How are you doing? I haven’t gotten any recent text messages or pictures of the fam.”

“Hey, just been kind of busy.” Xenia gulped, fearing Stacey’s reaction to her marital woes.

* * *

Ted looked at all the doors and tried to find the one for the radio station. “Here it is!” he said when he spotted a large oak door. He hoped he wasn’t too late. The show had just ended. He turned the knob and walked inside the waiting area.

No one sat at the front desk.
Everyone must have dipped, damn!

 Suddenly, he heard Xenia speaking softly. Relieved, he made his way to the closed door where the studio was. He peered into the small square window and saw the top of her head. He could hear her clearly now.

Ted pushed on the door, opening it only a couple of inches before he stopped as he heard her say, “Yes divorced, Stacey. I’m getting divorced.” Xenia uttered. She looked around the studio to ensure no one was around and put her phone on speaker while she gathered her belongings.

“Oh my God, Xenia! Why didn’t you tell me?” The other woman’s voice was drowned by intermittent static over the phone. “I’m so sorry that it ended like this. I really thought you two were meant to be, after I spent more time around him. He really seemed like he had changed and that he loved you.”

“I thought so too, but you were right all along, Stacey.” Xenia wiped her runny nose. “I saw it with my own eyes. This bitch was riding him like a pony, smiling and going to town. It was his ex-girlfriend. He had the nerve to tell me she drugged his drink. He must think I’m a fuckin’ fool!” she snapped.

“Well, wait a minute, Xenia. He does have a lot of women that are pissed at him and some are mad he got married. I told you about that years ago but you didn’t want to hear it. It was when we got into that huge argument right after your wedding.”